


Are We There Yet?

by AmariT



Series: Common People [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman and Robin (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bat Family, Batfamily Feels, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 08:10:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17260685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmariT/pseuds/AmariT
Summary: Bruce does not look forward to traveling with his ever-growing menagerie of children





	Are We There Yet?

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year! This exists within the Common People universe, but is a stand-alone story and can be read without context. The new chapter is still in process, but hopefully this will hold you over until it's done.

Tim was a quiet child. He always had been, ever since Janet dropped him off at barely a year old and he didn't even ask where his mother had gone. Most of the time it worried Bruce. When traveling, it was a blessing.

Cameras clicked around them as he stood near their gate with Tim propped on one hip and his phone in his other hand, talking Chinese sales with the European marketing team. He was so many levels deep in the conversation that he’d lost the thread, but he kept answering questions and spouting figures in the hopes that they could all move on with their lives.

He’d had primary custody of Tim for over a year now (sole custody, really, except for when Janet deigned to make an appearance) and the tabloids still hadn’t gotten over it. They ran any picture they could get of Bruce and Tim with headlines like, “America’s Most Eligible Bachelor Turned Single Dad?” It was ridiculous. Tim wasn’t even his first kid, but apparently the media found it much more likely that he’d father kids than that he’d raise them.

First class was supposed to be boarding by now. He tilted the arm holding Tim to check his watch, and Tim shifted easily with the movement. He was perfectly content to just sit there and watch the crowd. A little bit of jostling had never bothered him. Sometimes Bruce thought it was because he was a good kid. Sometimes he thought it was because there was something wrong with him. He didn’t actually know anything about raising a child. He’d managed, with far more of Alfred’s help than he liked to admit, but there were still so many little things he was sure he was doing wrong. Dick had never been quiet like this, that he was sure of. He tried to spend as much time with Dick as he could, even with the kid’s constant international touring, and at two Dick had talked so much he could have powered all of Gotham with the sound of his voice. Tim was just… quiet.

Now the European marketing team was asking about the budget for steel in South America. This couldn’t possibly be important to their jobs.

“I’m afraid the plane is boarding,” he said, even though it wasn’t. “Email me any further questions you have and I’ll address them when we land.” That was a dangerous invitation, but hopefully they’d sort through their questions and only send the ones they actually needed answers to.

According to the flight board they were still on schedule, but he didn’t think there was even a plane out there.

He really should stick to chartered flights, but a certain nosy reporter kept accusing him of damaging the environment. Commercial flights were more environmentally friendly, especially for international travel, and made him look more down to Earth, but he hated the lack of control. He and Tim were supposed to see Dick’s show two hours after landing. That should be plenty of wiggle room, but if the flight was late and customs took longer than expected, they could miss it.

He sighed loudly. Beside him, Tim echoed his sigh a bit more dramatically than Bruce thought his own had been. Bruce looked down at him and Tim looked back with a serious expression that Bruce thought probably mirrored his. Oh boy. Bruce didn’t think mimicking him encouraged healthy behavior. He forced himself to smile.

“Are you looking forward to seeing your brother?” Bruce asked.

“Yes,” Tim replied in a voice much too serious for the conversation.

“Are you looking forward to seeing the clowns?”

“No,” Tim replied in an equally serious voice. Bruce thought that was fair. He had never liked clowns either.

“Do you want to play a game?”

Tim nodded and Bruce looked around for something that could entertain a toddler. He vaguely remembered his own parents playing games with him when they traveled. There were societal expectations for how Waynes should behave when in public, but in private they could be as loud or boisterous as they wanted. His lips twinged at the memory. They would have known what to do with Tim.

Tim was watching him expectantly, so he said, echoing a memory of his mother playing in his mind, “I spy with my little eye, something that starts with…” Wait, Tim couldn’t spell yet. “Something that’s the color red,” he amended.

Tim studiously inspected the gate’s waiting area, his eyes narrowed. After a minute of him silently searching, Bruce said, “It’s okay to guess. It doesn’t have to be right.” Tim gave him a scandalized look like he’d suggested eating the dog. Bruce was doing something wrong with this kid, he just knew it.

Bruce let him continue to search for another two minutes until Tim said with absolute certainty, “The bag,” pointing at a blue bag with red birds scattered across it.

“That’s right, champ,” Bruce said quietly, rustling his hair. Tim beamed proudly.

“First class can now board,” the hostess said.

 _Thank god_ , Bruce thought, checking his watch. They were only ten minutes behind schedule. They’d make the show.  

They were the first ones on the plane. He settled Tim into a chair almost three times as big as he was. Tim immediately shifted over to watch out the window even though the only things out there were baggers loading the plane. His eyes flit back and forth, following their movements. Bruce put his bag of picture books next to him on the seat. Tim could entertain himself, Bruce knew. He did it for hours while Bruce was working on cases or reading files for work, calmly sitting in a corner staring at pictures in books he couldn’t read yet. Bruce knew he should be doing more, but he didn’t know how.

Visiting Dick would be good for Tim. For both of them.

***

At four, Tim was still the perfect flyer. He was quiet, calm, and content to stay right by Bruce’s side.

Dick was not.

“Get down from there,” Bruce said sternly. He did not yell. Yelling was for bad parents. He sternly, and very loudly, just so Dick could hear, told him to get down.

Dick pouted down at him from his perch on top of the flight board like Bruce was the worst villain he had ever encountered.

“I’m serious, Richard.” Dick hated the name Richard. Calling him that was a more successful punishment than grounding.

Dick grumbled but climbed down. They weren’t even halfway to their gate yet. He definitely needed to start exclusively flying private. His heart wasn’t made for this.

They made it another few steps before Dick started walking on his hands instead of his feet. Bruce could hear the clicks of cameras surrounding them but he’d long since given up on keeping his kids out of the media, and Dick loved the attention. Bruce thought it was half the reason he acted out. At least if he was walking on his hands, he wasn’t getting into trouble.

Dick flipped forward onto his feet. “I’m bored,” he whined. Bruce knew he was bored. He was always bored. Dick could be doing five things at once, one of which was life threatening, and still be bored.

“Okay,” he said. “I spy with my little eye—”

“A burger place!” Dick said, swerving towards a dingy looking restaurant near their gate. “Can we get burgers?”

Bruce picked Tim up, bag and all, and followed. “There will be food on the plane.”

“But I want burgers.”

Bruce sat Tim at one of the few tables surrounding the burger counter. It was one of those places that you ordered and got your food at the counter and took it to the table yourself. Not exactly his normal scene. Dick was already studying the menu with the concentration of a stock trader though, so Bruce resigned himself to cheap diner food. Tim pulled a book out of his bag and started flipping through it. He was such a good kid. So easy.

Bruce approached Dick at the counter. “Do you know what you want?”

“A triple bacon and onion bbq burger,” Dick said. “Or the one with a fried egg and hash browns on it.” Bruce’s stomach twisted at the very idea. “Yeah, let’s do that one.”

Bruce didn’t know having children would test him like this. He pulled out his wallet and said to the cashier, “One—” he winced “—Breakfast on Beef Burger.”

“No, you have to get two,” Dick said. “One for you too.”

“I’m not going to eat that.” It was possible that if a villain held Gotham hostage in exchange for him eating a Breakfast on Beef Burger, Gotham would fall.

“You need to be more adventurous,” Dick insisted. “Two,” he told the cashier. She obediently rung it up. Bruce was quickly losing control of the situation if she thought Dick was the authority here.

“I’m plenty adventurous.”

“No way. You even manage to make jumping off buildings boring with all your rules and regulations.” Bruce side-eyed the cashier, but she looked like someone thoroughly used to ten-year-olds saying weird things.

“You can get two burgers if you will eat two, but I’m not eating any.”

“We’ll see,” Dick singsonged as Bruce paid.

They hadn’t even waited one minute before Dick got distracted by something else. “Is that a Disney store?” he asked, going from standstill to a full sprint in a split second.

“Dick, come back here!” Bruce called, following quickly behind him. Dick was already inside, browsing through the stuffed animals.

“Look at all of these, Dad,” he said, voice awed. There were rows of Dumbos, Tramps, Stitches, Nemos, Simbas, and Tiggers. “I need at least one of each.”

“You need no such thing,” Bruce said, trailing behind him as he walked down the row. He knew Dick wasn’t serious. He’d always been willing to give Dick whatever he wanted, but Dick hadn’t wanted much. When he was with the circus there wasn’t room, and he’d brought the minimalist lifestyle with him when he left. Of everyone in the manor, he was the one who could most easily pack everything and leave, Alfred included.

Dick put on a tiara as they passed through the clothing section. “Board games!” he exclaimed. “Disney Monopoly, look.”

“We already have Gotham Monopoly.”

“Yeah, but that’s just depressing. All the tiles are like, abandoned fairgrounds and murder dock.”

“That’s not true.” Actually, Wayne Enterprises was one of the properties. It always amused him when one of the kids got it.

“You’d rather have Disney Monopoly, right Tim?” Dick asked.

There was a silence as they both turned to the empty spot behind them.

“Where’s Tim?” Dick asked.

Bruce’s heart froze in his chest and he raced back out of the store. It hadn’t been long, but there were more than a few people who would happily snatch a Wayne kid.

Tim was still sitting at the burger table, his book closed neatly in front of him. The cashier was leaning over the table talking to him, and Tim pointed as Bruce approached. “There he is.”

Bruce flushed. The cashier seemed nice enough, but he just knew this was going to end up on her blog or Twitter and be on the evening news by tonight. “Thank you,” he said, picking up Tim. She smiled in response and held out his bag of burgers. He’d entirely forgotten about that. Less important than forgetting his four-year-old, but still. He was losing his mind.

“Where’s Dick?” Tim asked.

Bruce turned around. Dick hadn’t followed him. Of course Dick hadn’t followed him. He didn’t know why he thought Dick would. He jogged back towards the Disney store. He thought he heard the cashier giggling behind him. At least most people would assume this was more ditzy Brucie stuff, but he did at least _try_  to look like a good dad.

Dick wasn’t at the Disney board games. Bruce almost had a heart attack before he saw Dick playing in a large castle with a couple of other kids.

He slumped into a Queen-of-Hearts-style throne. “I have your burgers, Dick,” he called.

“I’m good!” Dick called back, climbing the side of the castle. “You eat them.”

By the time he managed to herd both children to the plane, they were the last to board. They had two seats on one side of the aisle, and one on the other side. He hesitated. Logically, he should sit with Tim, who was younger, but Dick was far more likely to wander off if left to his own devices. He was certain he shouldn’t let the four-year-old sit on his own though, no matter how well-behaved he was.

“You two take the seats together,” he told them, making a snap decision. Dick was good with Tim, and he always behaved better when given responsibility.

“You hear that, Timmy? We get to hang out,” Dick said, leading him to the seats. Tim looked a mix of cautiously excited and concerned. Bruce understood, he thought tiredly as he sat down. Dick could be overwhelming.

When they got settled, Tim took out one of his books. “Whatcha reading?” Dick asked, scooting over into Tim’s chair. They didn’t quite fit and Tim was squeezed tightly between Dick and the side of the chair.

“Dick!” he whined.

“Sorry, here,” Dick said, lifting Tim so he was half seated in Dick’s lap. Tim was only a foot shorter than Dick, and the position looked awkward. Bruce watched them carefully in case he needed to step in, but Tim settled down as Dick held Tim’s book in front of them. “Let’s read together.”

Bruce knew the flight attendants wouldn’t let them stay like that when it was time for the plane to take off, but for now they looked content. Tim cuddled against Dick’s chest as Dick started to read the book out loud, dramatically acting out the dialogue.

This was a great idea. Maybe Bruce could even take a nap.

The second he closed his eyes he was plagued with visions of Dick climbing into the baggage compartment and doing backflips in the aisle.

Or not.

***

Bruce counted his children again to make sure they were all there. One, two, three. When did he get three children? How did this happen?

Dick was drifting towards a shop. “Stay by my side,” Bruce said.

“I’m seventeen,” Dick replied. His tone was scandalized, but he wasn’t fooling Bruce. Bruce had been doing this for years, and it all went to hell the moment Dick started wandering.

“Yes,” he said, “and keep your seventeen-year-old butt by my side.”

Tim and Jason were walking together a few steps behind them. He could probably trust them to stay out of trouble. Unlike Dick, who was now two feet away. “Richard,” he said.

“Seventeen!” Dick repeated.

“It’s okay,” Tim said, tone comforting. Bruce glanced back at them, but he and Jason seemed fine.

He just needed to get everyone to the plane without any distractions, detours, or disasters. He handled worse things than this on the average night.

Dick eyed a nearby story with more interest than Bruce approved of. It wasn’t even a good store. Just one of those schlocky trinket stores that popped up in every airport.

“It’s okay,” Tim said again. Bruce looked back sharply. Tim and Jason were walking down the center of the hallway. There weren’t any strangers near them. They had their bags. They were staying away from the shops. His gaze caught on Jason’s fingers where they were tapping rapidly against his leg.

“I should get something for Babs,” Dick said, veering to the side.

“No.” Bruce grabbed Dick’s sleeve before he could walk more than a few steps.

“I’m just going to be a minute,” Dick insisted. “I’m old enough to be on my own for _one minute_.”

It echoed a number of arguments they’d had in recent months, as Dick fought for an independence Bruce wasn’t quite ready to give him. This wasn’t about that though. This was about actually making their flight. “We should stay together. You can get her something later.”

“It’s okay,” Tim said. Bruce spun around. Jason’s fingers were rapidly tapping. His shoulders were hunched up. His face was locked in a scowl.

“Are you scared of flying?” Bruce asked.

“Of course not! Why would you think that?” Jason asked. “And if I was, it wouldn't be embarrassing. Not everyone grew up jet-setting around the world, you know. Some of us didn’t even have enough money for a bike.”

“Do you want a bike?” Bruce asked.

“What? That’s not even... Shut up.”

“It’s okay to be scared of flying, Jason.” He hoped that was the right thing to say. Jason was as likely to snap at him for some perceived insult as he was to take it as the comfort it was meant to be. More likely, actually.

“Dick left,” Tim said. Bruce spun around. Sure enough, Dick was no longer beside him. He breathed in slowly through his teeth.

“Do you think you two can go ahead to the gate?” he asked. “I need to wrangle your brother.”

“He’s seventeen,” Jason said with a tone of disbelief. He didn’t know better. He hadn’t traveled with Dick before.

“He’s a menace,” Bruce replied.

“Come on,” Tim said, tugging Jason towards the gate. “Would it help if I explained how planes work?”

“I know how planes _work_ , Tim,” Jason said. “It’s not how planes work that’s the problem.” But he followed without complaint. Bruce watched to make sure they kept going the right way before heading towards the tourist trap Dick had been eying. He found him looking at gaudy plastic ornaments of Gotham’s skyline.

“Shouldn’t you wait until we actually leave Gotham to buy souvenirs?” he asked.

“Look at this, Dad,” Dick said, holding up a snow globe ornament with a floating yellow bat signal drifting alongside the snow. “I need one. I need one for _all of my friends_.” He tilted his full body to look behind Bruce. “How’d you lose the kids already?”

“I sent them ahead to the gate.”

Dick looked aghast. “Wait, you trust them by themselves and not me? I’m seventeen!”

“You’re a seventeen-year-old who missed a flight to Baghdad last month despite being in the airport the whole time.”

“I caught up!”

“And how will you explain ‘catching up’ to your brothers?”

Dick snorted but put the snow globe back and followed Bruce out of the store. “There is more than one flight. You know that right?”

Jason and Tim were sitting in chairs near the gate. _They’d_  managed to get there without issue.

“So the wings make the air go down which makes the plane go up,” Tim was saying as they approached, using broad hand gestures that did nothing to illustrate his point.

“I’m less comfortable with how flying works than I was before.”

Tim looked frustrated. “I’m not explaining it well.”

“No, I get it,” Jason said. “The wings create weather magic.”

“That’s not at all what I’m saying,” Tim whined.

“The plane’s a meta. That makes sense. Does Superman also fly by creating weather magic?”

Bruce was ninety percent sure Jason was messing with Tim. It was heartwarming, actually. Jason was starting to feel enough like part of the family to tease his little brother.

While they devolved into an argument about how Superman flew, he approached the podium. “Is first class boarding yet?” The sooner all of his children were actually on the plane, the sooner he could relax.

“We’re just starting now, sir!” the chipper woman behind the podium said. He gave her his most charming smile to make up for whatever disaster his children were likely to cause.

“Come on, boys,” he called back to the bickering… well, they weren’t all teenagers yet. Oh, god. Tim would turn thirteen before Dick turned twenty. He was going to have three teenagers at once.

“Wait, why are we boarding before everyone else?” Jason asked, eying the crowd of seated passengers.

“First class boards first,” Bruce told him. Jason stiffened and Bruce could feel the argument coming like a shift in the winds. He picked up Jason’s abandoned bag and started down the gangway, trying to at least get on the plane before the inevitable explosion happened.

Jason, thankfully, miraculously, followed. “I don’t want to fly first class. That’s for rich assholes.”

“ _We’re_  rich assholes,” Tim said.

“Language,” Bruce said mildly.

“He said it first!” Tim exclaimed with the righteous anger of a kid that got away with far fewer curse words than his dirty-mouthed brother. It was a fair complaint, but Bruce had to fight too many other battles with Jason to worry about his gratuitous use of profanity right now.

“ _I’m_  not a rich asshole,” Jason said. Tim gave Bruce a look like ‘aren’t you going to say something?’ then scowled when he didn’t.

“Which part do you disagree with?” Tim asked. “Rich or _a-hole_?” He emphasized a-hole and shot Bruce a dirty look. Bruce did feel bad. He’d talk to Tim later. He was a smart kid. He’d understand.

Jason floundered with an answer as they entered the cabin before finally saying, “I might be rich now and an asshole, but I’m not a _rich asshole_. It’s different.”

“How,” Tim asked, his curiosity overwhelming his annoyance for now.

“It’s about what you do with the money. I mean, look at this,” he said, standing in the curtained doorway between first class and coach, where the difference between the two was most stark. First class had large, lush reclining chairs with plenty of legroom, large screen TV’s for each seat, and privacy walls that could be pulled up. Bruce didn’t even think he could fit in a seat in coach. “We’re not better. We shouldn’t get preferential treatment.”

“It’s not about being better,” Bruce said. “If you pay more, you get more. That’s true for anything. Food, lodging, clothes.”

“It’s such a waste of money,” Jason said, scowling at the seats as if their comfort levels offended him.

“We have the money. I don’t see why we shouldn’t spend it.” He knew it was the wrong thing to say when he said it, but he honestly wasn’t sure why. Jason was sensitive about money, having grown up without it. Bruce ached when he thought of all of the things his son had been denied, and that he still denied himself because of it. He’d think Jason would just be grateful to have money now, but instead he always insisted they should have less.

“Then we should give it to people who actually need it!” Jason exclaimed. “Do you know what… what… how much did this cost for the four of us? Three-thousand dollars? Do you know what that could do for a family?”

The total cost of their tickets had been over twenty-thousand, but Bruce didn’t think correcting him would go over well. “We donate a significant amount to charity every year. Denying ourselves wouldn’t result in more money for charity.”

“Well, why not?” Jason asked. “What if every time we were going to fly first class, we got normal tickets instead and you donated the difference to charity?”

“Actually, every time we fly, Dad says we’re going to charter a private plane next time.” Dick said cheerfully.

Jason looked horrified. “I won’t do it. You take the private plane. I’ll fly coach by myself.”

Tim had already settled into a window seat, but he leaned around the barrier to snap a picture of Jason.

“Tim!” Jason exclaimed.

“It’s your first time flying,” Tim said unapologetically. “It should be memorialized.”

“What did we say about asking permission before taking pictures?” Jason asked storming over to him.

“If I asked permission first, I wouldn’t get genuine emotion.”

“Genuine emotion like shock and anger?” Jason asked.

“Yes,” Tim agreed, as he looked at the picture he’d taken with a pleased smile. “Those ones.”

Jason sighed loudly and slumped into the chair next to Tim. Dick was settling into one of the seats across the aisle. Bruce had been debating what the seating arrangement should be, but it appeared they had already decided without him. At least the argument about money seemed to be allayed for now.

Dick pulled his legs up onto his chair as Bruce walked past him to the window seat, and left them there in a crisscrossed position. “It’s going well, I think.”

Honestly, it was going better than Bruce expected.  

***

Four kids. Four rambunctious kids in a crowded airport. Bruce remembered how easy it was back when all he had was Tim. That was nice. He could get work done. When was the last time he managed to do any work while traveling?

His eyes swept over his children again, taking stock. Tim and Jason were together, which probably meant they were getting into trouble. He watched them drift towards one of the large bay windows, talking conspiratorially in low voices. If he left them alone long enough, they’d somehow end up stowed away in the luggage compartment of a hijacked plane. He didn’t know why that would happen, but it would. He just knew it.

Dick was, miraculously, still with them, cheerfully pointing out shops to Damian. The younger boy’s expression had been stuck in a scowl since they arrived at the airport and he realized they were joining the masses of holiday travelers instead of going to a private terminal.

“I don’t understand,” he said again, ignoring the latest wonder of the airport Dick was pointing at. “Are we poor? Why are we flying with these commoners?”

“It’s fun!” Dick insisted. Bruce suppressed a small smile as Damian sputtered indignantly in response. He had to admire Dick’s ability to find joy in the mundane.

“Can I trust you to stay with Damian?” he asked Dick. “I need to check on your brothers.” Tim and Jason were now staring contemplatively out the window at the planes driving by. He was almost positive they wouldn’t steal an airplane but they’d surprised him enough times over the years that he’d rather not risk it.

“I’m twenty!” Dick exclaimed.

Bruce gave him a look. He did not stop giving him a look.

“You trust the ten-year-old more than you trust me,” Dick groused.

“As he should,” Damian said. “I would not wander off.”

“Keep an eye on him,” he told Damian. Dick made a high-pitched offended noise, but he’d brought this on himself. Damian nodded, solemnly accepting his duty.

Tim and Jason stopped talking as he approached, which was always cause for concern. “What are you two up to?”  

“Nothing,” they said in unison. It was enough to send an icy spike down his spine.

“Let’s all do nothing together by the gate then,” he said, herding them back towards Damian and Dick.

“Jason wants to get a pilot’s license,” Tim said, which Bruce knew was an attempt to distract him from whatever they’d actually been talking about. He’d allow it for now.

“Maybe you should get a driver’s license first,” he said.

“Sure,” Jason agreed easily. “Car license, motorcycle license, _then_  pilot’s license.”

They made it to the gate in one piece. Early, even. Dick looked like he was itching to explore the closest shop, but either his instinct to stay with Damian or his desire to prove Bruce wrong kept him in his seat.

“Father, this is infuriatingly slow,” Damian said, standing and pacing back and forth in front of their seats. “We shouldn’t be required to wait.”

Bruce rubbed at his temple where a headache was starting. “Why don’t we play a game? I spy with my little eye, something that starts with—” He looked around for something to say, but Damian didn’t let him finish.

“Your eye is not small,” he said, coming to a stop in front of Bruce and crossing his arms. “This game is childish and stupid.”

“I spy with my little eye something that starts with a b,” Jason muttered.

“A brat?” Tim asked.

Damian twirled on them. “How dare you. I am trying to uphold this family’s respectability, something that has clearly been lacking.”

“Come on, Little D,” Dick said, patting the chair next to him. “It’ll strengthen your observation skills.”

Damian brooded. “Fine,” he said, sitting down again. “But only because it’ll improve my already outstanding abilities.”

Tim rolled his eyes and Jason didn’t even try to hide his laugh. Damian glared at them both, but settled against Dick, curling up a little closer than necessary as Dick picked a letter. He still wasn’t comfortable with his place in the family, Bruce knew, but watching him with Dick, he was sure it was only a matter of time.

The hostess announced first class boarding and Damian stood up, then looked around at them confused when they didn’t join him. “Is this not us?” he asked.

“Nope,” Jason said, with a delighted pop on the p. “We fly coach.”

“Why?” Damian asked with dawning horror.

“Because we’re not rich assholes,” Jason said.

“We donate the difference in cost between first class and coach tickets to charity,” Tim explained. “Jason picks the charity. I think we’re doing End Homelessness right now.”

“Children’s Protection Group,” Jason corrected. He put a lot of time into researching which charities did the best work and needed the most help. Bruce was proud of him. He’d spent years doing his best to carry on his mother’s charity work, but nobody in the family had her spirit as much as Jason did.

“Father, please,” Damian pled, turning to him. “We’ll look ridiculous. We’re _Waynes_. We’re better than this.”

Actually, Wayne Enterprises stock had jumped significantly when the media caught wind that the Waynes were flying coach. Apparently Jason wasn’t the only one who thought first class was for rich assholes.

Bruce held out an arm to him and Damian sat beside him, curling up like an angry kitten as Bruce put an arm around his shoulders,. “It will be good for you,” Bruce said.

Damian tutted angrily, but didn’t protest further.

A benefit of flying coach was that all five of them could fit in one row. Tim went straight to a window seat as usual, Jason took the middle, and Dick sat in the aisle, where he’d most easily be able to get up and walk around (and probably make five new friends before the flight was over). Bruce let Damian have the other window seat and squeezed into the seat next to him. His knees pressed uncomfortably against the seat in front of him.

“I am not pleased,” Damian grumbled, staring out the window.

“We’re doing good in the world,” Bruce said. “Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do?”

Damian was silent for a few minutes, staring glumly out the window, before saying, “I suppose.”

Bruce remembered sitting in the large first class seats with a tiny, quiet Tim, who kept to himself and let Bruce work. It was a pleasant memory, but as he watched Dick already chatting it up with someone in the seat in front of him, Tim and Jason resuming their plotting now that Bruce was safely out of earshot, and Damian, who he was certain had a huge heart underneath his rough exterior, staring out the window beside him, he knew he wouldn’t go back to it for the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang out with me on Tumblr. I'm [Amarits](https://amarits.tumblr.com).


End file.
